


Hey, Cutie Pie

by nooneinparticular1



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nooneinparticular1/pseuds/nooneinparticular1
Summary: Ok, so this is my first fic. Just wanted to get my feet wet.
Just John Donovan and Lincoln Clay being cute together.





	

Lincoln didn’t know why Donovan told him to meet him at the swamps. He didn’t know why he agreed. The mosquitoes were rampant that night and the gators looked hungry as ever. Still, he sat and waited for his fellow veteran at the edge of the pier, swatting away flying organisms.

 

Right on time, the headlights from the Portamento truck could be seen creeping up behind him. The light illuminated some of the forest across the swamp, but it was immediately obscured once Donovan turned off the vehicle.

 

“Hey, cutie pie,” Donovan teased from the driver’s window. Lincoln opened the passenger’s side door and giggled as he plopped himself in the seat, shaking the truck a little on his landing.

 

“I thought you would never show up,” Lincoln smirked.

 

“Oh what am I? A minute late?” Donovan quipped. His friend rolled his eyes and looked out into the distance. The water in the swamp looked less mossy tonight.

           

“So you have something for me?” Lincoln asked, taking a lighter and cigarette from the glove compartment. He turned the igniter on the lighter until it blew a steady flame.

           

“I was going to wait till Christmas but then I thought, I don’t believe in Christmas. So, here.” He handed Lincoln a thick manila folder with “CLAY” written on it in big bold letters. He undoes the paperclip and folds the flap back. The file is filled with blurry photos of bloody faces. Paperwork spills out of the folder detailing the deaths of the Marcanos - the autopsies and various testimonies from witnesses. “This is my police file.”

           

“That’s right”

           

“How did you-?“

           

“Never mind how I got it. It’s yours now. To burn. To shit on. To do whatever with. You’re scott-free, precious.”

           

“Shit, Donovan, I-

           

“Don’t say anything. I _am_ going to need a million dollars though.” Donovan paused with a serious face and then snickered. They laughed in unison.

           

Lincoln placed the papers back in the file neatly and put it underneath his seat. He lit his cigarette and watched the white end of it blacken and wilt, and then inflame. With both the men having cigarettes in either their hands or their mouths, they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the thick water beneath them lap up against the shore.

           

Lincoln turned to Donovan finally and said, “You know, I should give you that million dollars.”

 

Donovan twisted his face.

           

“I mean, I have it,” Lincoln continued, “And since Sammy and Ellis… you’ve been… you helped me through that. You always been there for me. Least I can do is give you that money.”

 

Donovan waved Lincoln off and blew a cloud of smoke out of his mouth.

 

”Look,” he started, “I was happy help you take down those assholes. I was just happy to be there. I’d rather see you take that money and invest it so that pre-pubescent Lincoln Clays can have a fighting chance in this fucked up shithole of a town. More importantly, invest it in a future so that you can finally have some fucking peace of mind.”

           

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Lincoln bubbled, with enamored eyed.

           

“I’ve been trying to tell you that, babe,” Donovan said nudging Lincoln’s shoulder. Lincoln playfully pushed him back. They continued this.

           

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Lincoln joked.

 

“I’m not scared of someone who doesn’t know how tie a tie.”

           

“You keep bringing that shit up, Imma have to whoop your ass.”

           

“I’d love to see you try, precious.”

 

Moonlight breeched the car as if the moon were right on top of the swamp that night. Crickets, frogs, and waves came together to perform a symphony.

           

Donovan, who had a hand playing with one of the straps of Lincoln’s wife-beater, had the same enamored look. Lincoln outlined the breast of his best friend’s yellow suit jacket with his index finger. Donovan pulled on the strap, bringing the other man closer until he was inches away from his face. Lincoln bit his lip before, hesitantly, leaning in and meeting his best friend’s lips with his own.

           

The kiss was a union of dark liquor flavored lips, a clanking of teeth worn down by incessant cigarette smoke, and a meeting of wandering and eager tongues. Lincoln enveloped Donovan’s bottom lip with his mouth and pulled away. Donovan shook his head and smirked.

           

“If you keep giving me that,” he snorted, “you sure as fuck can keep the cash.”


End file.
